


The importance of a honest man

by Liah



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:00:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Liah/pseuds/Liah
Summary: Look at you, you little goldfish. How important in your ordinariness you are for two greatest minds of London.My tribute to Gregory Lestrade - he deserves more love from this fandom.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Kudos: 45





	The importance of a honest man

Mycroft was not entirely sure what he was going to do. 

He was the man with the power; and the man with intellect and no boundaries to use it on top of that. Many feared him even though they did not know his name, and even more responded to him, relied on him one way or another.  
To maintain such position, you need to plan you every step, every word with utmost care. You need to watch your back even with your beloved ones; the best option was not to have beloved ones altogether. 

That night, there was no plan and no reason for the British government. 

Only slight drizzle smoldering windows of his car, silky as cloth of his suit and streets as cold as his fingers. Mycroft was rarely warm, despite his brother´s attempts to insult him about his weight. There were few goldfish outside, the ones whose ordinary lives Mycroft was protecting from his position, hurrying this or there, eager to get dry.

“There,” Mycroft murmured to the soft shadow of the car, to the comfortable leather. Nobody responded, but Mycroft knew his command was heard.  
For the rest of the ride, he thought about Sherlock as he often did those days – planning their next steps only to stumble with lack of data, then spiraling into analyzing both Sherlock and himself. Mycroft was well aware that Sherlock question _do you think there is something wrong with us?_ Was more than justified, because they were different. Sherlock and his mind palace, the technique Mycroft taught him and which he mastered to the level Mycroft could not reach (while Mycroft´s mind palace was their first house, Sherlock´s was a whole _manor_ ). 

The last street he walked on his own with the umbrella in hand. It was not the best neighborhood for him to pass with no protection, criminal activity rather high, but for once, wanted to be the restless Holmes and there was nobody bold enough to question him. 

That aside, these thugs and small criminals respected the person he was heading to too much to bother anybody associated to him in any way.  
Then he knocked at an old door, he still had no plan and no excuse to be there.  
For once, he did not need them. 

Greg Lestrade was a divorced detective with rather serious nicotine addiction. He was forty-five, dead on his feet after double shift and showed no surprise on Mycroft´s out-of-place appearance on his shabby doorstep.  
They knew each other for almost fifteen years, from the days when both of their careers just started, not close friends but familiar enough thanks to the time shared and one genius detective consultant they helped to get clean from drugs – it was far from the first time Mycroft appeared visiting him like this.  
Without world, Lestrade let him in. Mycroft closed the door behind himself. 

“Work to discuss?” detective´s husky voice asked from the kitchen, all business and duty first, because about that, he cared the most. Mycroft sat down on a sofa, familiar enough with the small flat to feel at ease, “I am afraid not,” he answered honestly. He let his own exhaustion show – his trembling hands, his crouched shoulders and heavy bones. There was no need to pretend there.  
“Hey, this city is not crumbling under our hands for once, no need to sound so down about it,” the older man tried to reassure him. He had two beers and one glass in his hands – only indicator he saw Mycroft as a guest was that he poured beer in the glass for him while he took a swing from the bottle. There was something about him – he never showed that social gap between them concerned him in slightest, he was not ashamed about his small flat or cheap beer. But he was enough experiences to know that Mycroft would not drink something he had not seen opened or he did not poured himself.  
The only reason Mycroft did not ask Lestrade out years ago – beside the marriage – was that social gap. No, Mycroft did not care about Lestrade´s money, but the older man was prideful. He would not let Mycroft to take care of him, to spoil him in any way or to use his own power for Lestrade´s advantage – and really, that was only way how Mycroft knew how to show he cared.

“What do you want to talk about, then?”  
In few days, there would be Moriarty´s trial. Moriarty would win and terrible things would happen – him and Sherlock would face their demons and they would pay dearly although Mycroft was not sure yet how and in what way. Any Mycroft was not sure that his and Sherlock sibling relationship would survive that intact.  
But how to say that all? To somebody who would be killed instantly if knowing these secrets?

“I am not sure,” Mycroft answered. Lestrade took another swing and then said:  
“Well, Jane is turning ten in week. Help me to come with the best gift for my dear nephew.”

And so they did – brainstorming ideas for this little girl Lestrade adored – her and her younger sibling, named after Lestrade. The detective never had his own children and his sister, Susan, divorced too, had these two daughters. Lestrade was practically father to them.  
Sometimes Mycroft wondered where things went wrong with Lestrades, that they could not keep their marriages intact. Then, he let it be - he had more tact than Sherlock.

Their ideas were more and more hilarious with passed time. Mycroft realized he drank two absolutely disgusting beers and he was enjoying himself.  
It was easy to be near to this man, honest to the fault in and outside his work. And with both of them working For the Land and for the Queen, accepting the fact that one day their work would kill them – there was a connection between them. They were comrades in the way.

But it was also something Grogory Lestrade was his mayor in eight years – usually, it did not matter in slightest with Mycroft commanding men as old as his father – but in this… deal between them they could feel that years between them, but in good way. Lestrade felt comfortable to lean on emotionally and the man himself felt comfortable enough in such position to offer support.  
For Sherlock, before John Watson came, Lestrade was a fatherly figure of sorts, since bless his biological parents, both Sherlock and Mycroft were just too much to handle for them. Lestrade help Sherlock to get clean, he gave him work and stability. Mycroft seen in many cases how Lestrade would stand up to protect Sherlock from harm and how calmly he explained social interactions to him when ´normal people would get just too much´. Also, although Sherlock would never admit that, rather saying that Lestrade is as stupid as any other average idiot, he would not even catch Sherlock´s interest if that would be true.  
His attitude to Sherlock and one personal check up was enough for Mycroft to start to warm up to Lestrade. 

For Mycroft, Lestrade came as a breath of normalcy, emotional stability he did not even know he craved. Lestrade was there to talk. He expected nothing from him, he would listen and would not try to pin him down for his secrets. He would see Mycroft as ordinary human, but not in humiliating sense of that word.  
He would make him laugh and bicker. To let the ice go for a moment. 

“Are you safe?” Lestrade asked him in whole seriousness, knowing instinctively that something was coming, that Mycroft would not be that winded to come to see him without any reason. In Mycroft circles, Lestrade held no power, even as a respected detective. But still, he felt protective streak to Mycroft, the man who showed himself rarely in his life, half of the time discussing only his younger brother and his stunts with him. A big heart. Where this man takes the strength to love when he sees what humans are capable of daily?

 _Look at you, you little goldfish. How important in your ordinariness you are for two greatest minds of London._  
Gregory Lestrade was connection to their own humanity for Holmes brothers.  
“As safe as I can be, detective inspector. You must not worry about my well-being,” Mycroft smiled and Greg smiled back, small, knowing thing.

_Thank you._

**Author's Note:**

> Gregory could afford much better place to live after his divorce (Mycroft made sure he got a competent lawyer for more than affordable price) - that neighborhood he occupies is well known for small crime, domestic abuse, people unlucky to be born in minor mess without way out, but mostly good people, in the end, at least in Lestrade´s eyes. He is well respected in the community, the same way Sherlock is respected by the homeless.


End file.
